


GO100: Ten Ficlets @ Strictly 100 Words (Or Fewer) Each

by irisbleufic



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Challenge Response, Community: goodomens100, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-15
Updated: 2006-09-15
Packaged: 2018-01-02 07:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exactly what it says on the tin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	GO100: Ten Ficlets @ Strictly 100 Words (Or Fewer) Each

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted to LJ in September of 2006

**Title:** Under Heaven  
**Rating:** PG, with implication.  
**Words:** 100  
**Challenge:** Triumph  
**Points:** Aziraphale  & Crowley  
  
  
From this high, Paris glitters, the fairest of kingdoms under Heaven.  
  
Aziraphale says so.  
  
Crowley, unable to disagree, laughs.  
  
"It's not a kingdom _of_ Heaven, angel."  
  
Conveniently, Aziraphale's wings are free, and it's no fault of his if, stretching, he catches Crowley upside the head. "Quite true," Aziraphale says, watching the demon rub his temple.  "But it is, nevertheless, fair."  
  
"We prefer to call it 'enticing,'" Crowley says, lowering his glasses to follow the progress of a traffic jam in the rotary below.  "Or 'seductive,' or—"  
  
From this high, Paris glitters, but from this _close_ , Aziraphale sees nothing but gold.  
  
  
**Title:** Culinary Delight  
**Rating:** PG, with…implication via absurdity.  
**Words:** 99  
**Challenge:** Turkey  
**Points:** Aziraphale  & Crowley  
  
  
Crowley dubiously eyed the baster.  
  
"You want me to put it _where_?"  
  
Aziraphale set the potholder aside with an irritated sigh.  
  
"Oh, for heaven's sake.  Give it here."  
  
Crowley leaned forward to watch, peering into the waves of heat.  
  
"Is it almost done?" he asked, impatient.  
  
"Not by half," Aziraphale said, closing the oven.  He put the baster on a plate so it wouldn't mess up the counter.  "I'm going to see what's on television.  Keep an eye on it, will you, dear boy?  Remember: every fifteen minutes."  
  
Smiling, he left Crowley to bristle.  
  
*  
  
(Thanksgiving is a purely American holiday, so this is Christmas or any other occasion on which two British gentlemen might find themselves roasting a turkey.)  
  
  
**Title:** Spoiled  
**Rating:** PG, with heavy implication.  
**Words:** 100  
**Challenge:** Sports  
**Points:** Aziraphale  & Crowley  
  
  
Crowley gripped his putter and took aim, frowning in concentration.  
  
There was an indiscreet, distinctly bored yawn from the cart.  
  
"Do me a favor," Crowley muttered, "and shut up."   
  
"I believe one of your favorite Americans," Aziraphale mused, "had something enlightening to say about this."  
  
"Which is?"  
  
"'Golf is a good walk spoiled.'"  
  
"Whereas you can't be troubled _to_ walk."  
  
Aziraphale took a sip of something, probably the wine Crowley had stowed in the cart. "My dear, unlike Mr. Twain, _I'm_ speaking metaphorically."  
  
Much later, Crowley decided the best part of a golf resort was definitely the resort.  
  
  
**Title:** From the Lost Book of Agnes Nutter  
**Rating:** PG (for Prophetic Guidance)  
**Words:** 74  
**Challenge:** Music  
**Points:** The Witches  
  
  
502\. And there schalle be Music even  
untoe the Queene, if thou leaveth  
yt inne the Chariot a fortnyght hence.   
Ther schalle be also synginge an  
dauncyng of the sort which yf  
daungerous untoe thee Toes yf to  
London Towne wyth Newt yow goe.  
Look yow to gettynge youre  
Daughters Three lecciouns as soone  
as yow are abel.  Mark wel the byrd  
that in Berkeley syngs; noon of yorn  
schal swich wondrous Melodye make.  
  
  
**Title:** The Night Before  
**Words:** 100  
**Challenge:** Television  
**Points:** The Witches  
  
  
Anathema had insisted: they didn't _need_ a television.   
  
Newt had disagreed.  
  
Christmas Eve found Anathema with her feet propped on the coffee table and Newt's head in her lap.  He had an unfortunate love of black and white films, which Anathema couldn't tell apart.  Instead, her family had always read Agnes.  
  
Anathema made sure Newt was asleep before slipping the remote out of his hand.  She didn't like the news, but it amused her when they showed hordes of harried last-minute shoppers. That's when she saw them, in one brief, snowy shot: arm in arm.  
  
Anathema didn't mind visitors.  
  
  
**Title:** Surprises  
**Challenge:** Expectations  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Points:** The Witches  
  
  
It wasn't that Anathema had expected _more_ of marriage.  
  
It was, quite possibly, that she had expected _less_.  
  
"Honey," Newt calls from the front door. "A little help with this?"  
  
He is struggling with a very large box. He has it wedged between himself and the door frame, and he looks disturbed at the prospect of it dropping, which is what it is surely about to do, given that his hands aren't that steady. He prefers not to drop things.  
  
What the box contains, Anathema is almost afraid to guess, but she abandons her reading anyway in favor of helping him. It's to be expected.  
  
  
**Title:** Different  
**Rating:** PG-13.  Slash ahoy.  
**Words:** 100  
**Challenge:** Contact  
**Points:** The Witches  
  
  
Crowley sighed, shifting his weight.  Somehow, it was different than he had expected.  
  
With a sleepy noise, Aziraphale rolled over and buried his nose in Crowley's hair.   
  
Nobody had warned Crowley about this part; it was probably Somebody's idea of a grand cosmic joke.  The whole thing was funny, really.  He had never seen that look on the angel's face before, and indulging in certain human-learned habits had never felt quite _that_ good. And Crowley was _sure_ he shouldn't enjoy kissing on a level that didn't involve Lust. Aziraphale yawned, nuzzling Crowley's ear.  
  
Different, Crowley decided, _might_ just be tolerable.  
  
  
**Title:**   What Hell Doesn't Know  
**Challenge:** Secrets  
**Words:** 100  
**Points:** Aziraphale  & Crowley  
  
  
The first time Crowley brought over tea bags, Aziraphale quickly dispatched them to the cupboard—and later to the trash.  What Crowley didn't know couldn't hurt him.  
  
The last time, Aziraphale gave him a hurt look and asked if he thought that Aziraphale had forgotten how to procure loose-leaf.  Crowley had given him a puzzled look in return and said, no, he was merely responding to the fact that Aziraphale was usually _out_ by the time he got there, and what else did _he_ have time to shop for?  
  
Aziraphale will never forgive Heaven for coming up with Convenience.  
  
  
**Title:** A Matter of Opinion  
**Words:** 100  
**Challenge:** Sleep  
**Points:** Aziraphale  & Crowley  
  
  
In the end, it was the warmth that sold Crowley.  
  
He never _could_ resist that, not from the very Beginning.  Sun on his back, warming the earth beneath his feet.  Kind of like that, he decided, only less bright and a lot softer and darker, and, as the humans would say, cuddlier. The fact that _Crowley_ makes sleep cuddly, however, is frequently the subject of heated debate.  The demon insists that isn't the case, because, by definition, demons can't _be_ cuddly.  
  
Aziraphale just chuckles and drifts back to sleep.  
  
  
**Title:** Itinerary  
**Challenge:** Holidays  
**Words:** 100  
**Points:** Aziraphale  & Crowley  
  
  
"Are you _sure_ this is what your people had in mind?"  
  
"Positively.  We even get sick leave, you know."  
  
Aziraphale sighed, spreading brochures out on the gaudy hotel duvet.  
  
"Well, there's—er, that place with the giant golf ball, and—"  
  
Crowley rolled over, swiping the brochures into a colorful clutter on the floor.  
  
"Epcot," he corrected.  "It's very educational.  Right up your alley."  
  
Aziraphale frowned at him, then reached to straighten the brochures.  
  
"I'm afraid I don't underst—"  
  
"Forget it," Crowley said, and yanked Aziraphale back onto the mattress.  
  
Those three-day passes were ridiculously expensive anyway.


End file.
